Sacrifice
by Jessica237
Summary: Deeks knows damn well what he's walking into. And he knows damn well that he probably won't be walking out. Speculation fic for 4x24, based on the finale promo. Major spoilers possible. KD.


**Title: **Sacrifice  
**By:** Jessica  
**Pairing: **Kensi/Deeks  
**Rating:** T  
**Timeline: **Mid 4x24, Descent. Based on the episode promo. Very spoiler-heavy.  
**Summary: **Deeks knows damn well what he's walking into. And he knows damn well that he probably won't be walking out.

**A/N:** Saw the promo for the finale. Thought I'd write a story. And there you have it. ;) This will probably become very AU after the finale airs, but in the meantime, it was fun to play around with what might possibly happen. :)

* * *

The dry desert wind rakes across her cheeks, the harsh burn of blowing sand leaving her skin raw underneath the heat of the sun. Later she'll feel it, she's certain, but for now, the only thing Kensi Blye feels physically is _numbness_. Perched atop a motorbike, she's ready at any moment to make her departure and return to the city; for now, though, she hesitates. The clock ticks, the steady cadence of enemy hands counting down the last few minutes, the last few seconds before she has no choice but to leave. In a few hours, she'll be somewhere over the ocean with Callen, while Deeks, her partner…

In describing his role in the case, Hetty had used the word _dangerous_.

Kensi prefers _suicidal_.

It's orchestrated perfectly, almost _too_ perfectly. At his moment of greatest peril, she'll be halfway around the world with no way to contact him, no way to intuit what's going on, whether or not he's okay.

It's just like walking right into a firefight with no vest.

He's putting himself in certain mortal danger and Kensi Blye has been stripped of every possible avenue of protecting her partner, of watching his back, of making sure he comes out alive on the other side.

It makes absolutely _no_ sense.

Closing her eyes, Kensi tries to process it all. She can't, though. No matter how thoroughly she tries to work through the reasons; no matter how much she tries to rationalize it, she simply can't make it work.

Or maybe, she just simply refuses. After all, it goes against _everything_ they've worked for. They're partners. Where he goes, she follows. Where she goes, he follows.

The very idea of disrupting that balance is just utterly _inconceivable. _

How can she just _leave_ her partner, knowing what he's about to do?

That's the question she'd asked him, point-blank.

His back to her, he'd raked a hand through his ruffled blonde curls and let out a heavy sigh before answering. "We're not partners right now."

It'd been a cold answer, but it was simple, straightforward, and to the point.

It hadn't taken Deeks very long to figure out why the partnerships in their team had been switched up again. Why two partnerships that complemented each other's strengths and weaknesses and (mostly) melded together almost seamlessly would be shaken up in favor of two partnerships that are always accompanied by friction at best, animosity at worst. And while he hadn't been happy about it at all, Deeks had accepted it.

He'd accepted it because he'd _gotten_ it.

Truly, Hetty hadn't made it hard to figure out in the first place.

As he stands just a few feet away from Kensi, folded neatly and tucked carefully in his back pocket is the message that Hetty had left for him after the ordeal with Monica, the last time Max Gentry had made an appearance.

_Sunshine and gunpowder._

Two of his favorite things.

Two things he can no longer separate.

To separate them, to think of one without the other…he can't do it.

Just like the two of them.

And _that_ had been the subtle point hidden within Hetty's message. They're _inseparable._ They're Kensi and Deeks. Two partners for whom the word _partner_ means a whole lot more than just that.

This, though…this is a mission in which the two of them simply _cannot_ be partners. The stakes are too high and nothing, _nothing_ clouds good operational judgment quite like emotions, quite like the sparks that fly between them.

Where he's going tonight, that's not a risk anyone can afford to take. He can't afford to go in with her by his side, and then blow the entire op due to his concern for her, and vice versa. More than anything, though, Kensi simply _can't_ be there when he does what he has to do, because there is _no_ way she could force herself to stand by and _allow_ it to happen. It has nothing to do with her ability or desire to do whatever it takes for the good of an assignment – no, for her to stand by and idly watch what is to take place tonight…well, she would have to have no soul.

Marty Deeks knows what he has to do, tonight.

He's well aware of the potential costs.

And as well as he can be, he's at peace with that.

"No, don't you dare say that," she whispers as he explains exactly that. It's meant to be a growl; a quiet, silky promise of vengeance should he ever go back on his word, a gentle promise from many weeks before. But what comes out is hardly even recognizable – a breathless, barely audible whisper nearly stolen away upon the breeze. She's angry - actually, she's _furious_. But more than that...she's hurt. "You – you were never going to tell me, were you? You didn't think I deserved to know that _my partner_ was taking on some ridiculous _suicide mission_ for this case?" Her brow furrows as she fixes him with the patented Blye glare – but with flyaway strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead and a gentle shimmer in her eyes, there's very little that's scary about the way she looks at him.

Instead, it just breaks his heart. "You weren't supposed to know, okay?" he admits softly, not missing the quick flicker of betrayal in her eyes. True, he'd lied to her. He hadn't told her everything. He had purposely kept hidden his part of this assignment in order to avoid exactly this.

It was exactly as Granger had said – he's the scapegoat of this team. The one who doesn't fully belong; the one who really shouldn't even be there. The one with the least to lose. Callen is the team leader; Sam has a family. And Kensi…well, Deeks would die before he _ever_let her take on this particular stunt. So, truly, he was the only choice.

His reply sparks a question inside of Kensi – she wouldn't believe it even if he said it, but even as she asks, the words sting. "Did you – did you ask Hetty to split us up?"

Deeks can't disguise the hurt that flashes across his eyes. He hadn't…though he has the slight suspicion that Hetty had hoped he would.

Because if _he_ had requested it, it would have meant that one of them, at least, was capable of keeping their head in the game. It would have meant that he was still capable of thinking in terms of the operation, and not allowing his own emotions to reign over everything. If he'd requested it, then maybe they wouldn't have had to share this, such a bittersweet farewell.

"No," he answers finally. "But…but I'm not disagreeing with it." Exhaling deeply, he looks away for just a second as he sorts his thoughts, choosing to explain his actions to her as quickly as possible. "Look. You already know how dangerous this is, not just for me, but for all of us. It's no secret that any one of us could get killed – maybe me, maybe Sam, maybe you or Callen overseas. We're _all_ in trouble here, and maybe switching up partners makes some things harder on us, but some things...there are some things it's going to make easier."

Kensi _can't_ deny that he's right…but at the same time, she's never heard anything so very wrong. The rush of blood in her veins nearly deafens her; over and over, she replays the same scene in her head, hearing every lilt and nuance of the conversation that night in the boatshed, seeing him in front of her looking lazy and relaxed yet somehow still quite sexy in that white t-shirt and hoodie combination, recalling all the details with striking clarity as if it'd been just yesterday. Swallowing hard, she fixes him with her most penetrating gaze, dark eyes boring deeply into guarded crystal blue. "You don't get to – you don't get to die, you hear me? You _don't."_

"Well, it's not what I _want_," Deeks replies quietly. "It's just that I don't...really have a say in it."

"_No_."

The fire behind her single utterance is undeniable, burning Deeks to the very core and leaving behind the smoldering ashes of guilt, of regret. Regret, for making a promise he'd had no business making; guilt, for knowing he's likely to break it tonight.

As if reading his thoughts as they unfurl within his head, she continues, an almost petulance in her voice that makes him hate himself just a little bit more. "You promised, Deeks. Remember?"

He wants to remind her that she'd also promised to keep his cryogenically-frozen self in her living room if he ever got himself killed, but he can't. He can't, because the slightest, tiniest waver in her voice, the same waver he'd heard when she'd asked him to make that promise, utterly tears his heart to shreds. It's an ache so deep that all he can do in return is nod solemnly, the gravest apology he's ever had to offer shimmering in his crystal eyes. "I know…"

Kensi swallows hard, her hands trembling as she grips the handlebars of the motorbike. For a brief moment, she _has_ to turn her head lest he see the unshed tears currently stinging her eyes. This is just too much, she thinks. It's too much and none of it was _ever_ supposed to happen, not like this. "You _keep_ promises," she forces out. "You _fight_ to keep them."

Oh, Deeks knows. God, he knows. And he'll hate himself until his very last breath for breaking this one. For breaking _any_ of them. "You don't have to forgive me. I – I get it if you can't."

(He certainly never will.)

Her head whips around to him again, anger mingling with the storm of emotion in her eyes. "Stop it," she hisses. "Just _stop_ it. You're – you're acting like you're heading off to execution – like you're already _dead_."

He sighs. It's basically the truth. "Kens…"

"_Stop._" She draws in a deep breath, trying, but failing to find the oxygen needed to steady her spinning head. Between the furious pound of her heart and the feeling of utter desperation consuming her, Kensi's dizzy, unsure of how she's yet to tumble to the ground. But something keeps her upright; something keeps her stable enough to stare at him, silently pleading with him. "It's an _assignment_. Just like any other. It's dangerous – just like any other. But you can back out, Deeks." Kensi hesitates for a moment, knowing he's not going to go for her alternative solution. "Or you can trust your partner to back you up, just like in every other assignment. There's no reason to act like you've only got hours to live."

Deeks hates the note of panic he picks up on in her voice – it's quiet, nearly hidden, yet unmistakable to his ears. "This is different – we both know it."

"No!" It's the first time her voice has risen above a mere whisper. It resonates deeply within Deeks' ears – he can count the times he's seen her noticeably shaken on one hand. None of them, though, have come close to the unraveling he's fearful he's about to witness.

He _hates_ that he's the cause of it. "Kens, _please."_

She can't stop it – the words spill from her mouth before she can even fully realize their implications, both for him and for her. "You don't get to be like Jack, okay?"

For a moment, there's merely silence. Heat rises up in her wind-burnt cheeks as Kensi watches the recognition flare in her partner's eyes. She needs to say no more than that to express what losing him would do to her. It's no secret, Jack had been her everything. She'd been prepared to move heaven and earth to save him; she knows she'd do the same for Deeks in a heartbeat. She'd fallen so hard for Jack that losing him had left her without an identity. She'd defined herself in terms of him, in terms of _them, _and losing him...well, it had felt like losing _herself_.

Since then, she'd prided herself on never allowing that to happen again.

(Except it had.)

Jack had promised to love her, to stand by her side until the day she died. When he'd disappeared, every last one of those promises had shattered along with her heart.

And Deeks…she'd made him promise her that he would never get himself killed. He'd looked her in the eye and promised it…and now, faced with the very real possibility that it might be another broken promise, that he might be another man to disappear from her life, that he might not be there on the other side of the phone in the middle of the night when she can't sleep, that he might never again instinctively know just when she needs him to push and when she needs him to step back…that she might very well _lose _him forever…

The very thought makes her physically nauseous.

It must show on her face (God, the lightheadedness is almost overwhelming) because Deeks takes a step closer to her, attempting to close the space between them just a bit more. "Kens, you _know_ if I had a choice," he begins quietly.

"But you _do_," she insists again. "I'm your _partner._ Callen doesn't need me. You let me go with you and watch your back."

He's shaking his head before Kensi even finishes. "Not an option. That was never an option. This…this is all me this time." Hesitating, Deeks tries to offer a smile, a playful grin of reassurance because that's what he does. That's what he does when the world is crashing down around them; that's what he does when they're all out of options – he relies on humor and somehow manages to lighten even the darkest of situations. It's the one thing he's truly _good_ at; the one thing he really prides himself on, especially when it comes to Kensi because anytime he can bring a smile to her face or coax a chuckle out of her even when all hope is lost, well, that's all the motivation he needs to keep fighting.

She's not okay with his answer – and really, if it were the other way around, he knows he wouldn't be okay with it either. "Why do you keep pushing me away?" she questions. "It's like the whole Max Gentry thing. The first time he came around, you pushed me away. You didn't want me anywhere _near_ him. Now he comes back out of nowhere and Granger sends you undercover with – with –" Kensi scowls, choosing not to utter Monica's name. "You didn't say a word to me. You refused to let me back you up until you _got_ in trouble. And now this? When lives are literally on the line?"

"Lives are always on the line, Kens. It's the job."

Kensi rolls her eyes. "I'm supposed to be wheels-up with Callen in less than two hours but I'm here with you. I came out here to find you, Deeks. And you're pushing me away. Why? Why do you keep shutting me out?"

"Because I –"

_Because I can't let you put yourself in this much danger._

_Because dammit, I'm in love with you._

He literally bites his tongue to halt the confession – it's the reason; it's the truth, but it's neither the time nor the place.

Then again, he's not sure there will ever be such a time or place.

After all, Deeks knows damn well what he's walking into.

And he knows damn well that he probably won't be walking out.

He can see the silent plea as he searches his partner's beautiful eyes, sifting slowly through each emotion he can pick out and name – God, he's never seen her eyes so open, so expressive before. He sees fear – fear in general, fear for the team, fear for him and his part of the mission. There's sadness and grief, mourning as the cruel reality sinks into her. Perhaps most shocking of all, though, is the emotion that he refuses to name, for fear it might disappear. It's the one emotion he knows for a fact that she's seeing reflected in his own eyes.

The walls are down; the maze is gone and for the first time, Deeks is really, truly seeing _Kensi_. He's caught little glimpses here and there, but never anything like this.

He's drawn gently from his reverie by Kensi's soft voice as she utters the one word Deeks will forever have trouble imagining as part of her vocabulary. "Deeks…please?"

He opens his mouth and draws in a breath, knowing what she wants to hear from him. She wants him to tell her that he'll be okay; that this is nothing. That he'll be fine; that this is nothing more than a routine assignment in a routine case.

She wants him to say he's merely preparing for the worst so that when he makes it through on the other side, he can fully appreciate it. She wants him to say that he doesn't expect to die.

She wants him to tell her not to worry, that he'll be back for her.

And God, the words are _right there. _He's even said them before.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, the first time he'd walked away from her for an undercover op. Sunglasses on, coffee in hand, smile on his face…it'd been easy. He hadn't even known her and she…well, she hadn't really cared. If anything, his tagging along had been merely a nuisance to her. His reply had been teasing, playful.

He tries to summon back some of that disconnectedness now. Tries to pretend that he doesn't care; tries to pretend that she doesn't want him around just so he can say the same words he'd said three years ago.

"_Don't worry Fern. I'll be back." _

But he can't do it.

And Kensi senses it. She senses it, and in a move of determined desperation, she reaches for the tiniest foothold she can reach, an ultimatum. She doesn't care just how needy it makes her sound; she doesn't care that it sounds like she's _begging_ him for something, anything. She just doesn't care.

Doesn't care about anything other than _him_. "Say it again," she whispers. "If you want me to leave, you have to say it again. Promise me you won't get yourself killed." Kensi pauses, swallowing the rapidly growing lump in her throat. "Promise me that you'll…that you'll be here when I come back. And then - then I'll go."

She holds his gaze unwaveringly, the emotions swirling within her eyes clenching like a vice around Deeks' heart, squeezing and puncturing until the ache nearly blinds him.

He's never wished he could give her something quite so badly before.

And he's never felt quite this helpless before, either.

Because he knows with every fiber of his being, every beat of his aching heart, every pulse of raw emotion through his body, that whatever she wants, whatever she needs…he'd give it to her, no questions asked.

But the one thing she wants from him is the one thing he can't give her.

He won't lie to her.

His silence is a dagger to her heart, twisting deeper and deeper until the pain is nearly unbearable. It tells her everything she needs to know, though, hitting the true gravity of this operation completely home. This _isn't_ just a little, short-term cover assignment. They're no longer a playful newlywed couple or an agent and his model or any of the other lighthearted covers they've assumed in the completion of a case.

They're pawns, but this isn't a game. This isn't a game and lives _are_ at stake. Specifically, _his_ life.

And to think, if she hadn't overheard a secret conversation between Hetty and Deeks early that morning, she would have never known. Kensi would have accepted Hetty's ridiculous reasoning for splitting them up and by the time she'd returned home with Callen…it would have all been too late and her very, _very_ last interaction with this man that she…_cares_ about would have been that morning's argument in the bullpen.

That's not something she can afford to dwell on right now though. Turning her gaze briefly to the dusty ground below, she feels the icy chill settle over her, freezing her from the inside out, leaving her feeling cold and far, far too fragile. "You can't say it, can you?"

It's not really a question. It's a quiet, whispered statement that nearly undoes him. That's what breaks something within him – whether it's his resolve or his strength or something else entirely, Deeks isn't really sure. It matters not, though, as his footsteps bring him near to her, closing away the distance between them. He reaches for her immediately, fingertips first dancing at her wrist, teasing her shoulder, and then finally, finally brushing along her jaw as he whispers the answer that breaks his own heart. "I wish I could, Princess."

He could make a thousand and one promises to her, but at the end of the day, what do any of them really mean? They're just…words.

It's not good enough to _tell_ her he'd come back to her if he had the choice.

It's not good enough to _tell_ her how much this partnership means to him and how it's utterly _destroying_ him to walk away from her.

And it's sure as hell not good enough to merely _tell_ her that she means _everything_ to him. That he's grown addicted to her scent; that it takes every ounce of resolve he has sometimes to hold himself back when all he wants to do is kiss her, knowing from one small, single cover kiss just how sweet she tastes.

That he'd fallen in love with her the moment their eyes first locked.

That he would be fighting just as hard for her right now if their positions were reversed.

His palms cup her face, settling just beneath her jaw and God, the sparks erupt and spread through his body like wildfire. It's then that time blessedly seems to slow itself, drawing out this single, final moment.

(He fears he'll never look into her eyes quite like this ever again.)

She gazes up into his eyes and that's when it truly hits her: he _doesn't_ believe he's ever coming home. It's there, plain as day in those beautiful ocean blues – beautiful ocean blues that she fights to commit to memory once last time, praying to any higher power that she doesn't have to retreat to memories in order to ever see them again. She wants those eyes gazing across the bullpen at her every morning; she wants those eyes skeptically watching her as she orders in the drive-thru; she wants those eyes to see through her the way that only they can, even as much as she's tried to shut them out.

And, oh God, she wants those eyes to be the first thing she sees in the mornings. She wants those eyes to darken to a delicious, seductive shade of deep cobalt as they just go the hell ahead and break the rest of the rules, ignore the boundaries, cross the lines, indulge in that oh so forbidden fruit.

It's how badly she wants that, _needs_ that, that stops her from letting go.

She'd never imagined it would be so _impossible_ to let go of the infuriating, irritating, Marty Deeks.

(Then again, she'd never believed she might fall in love with him.)

She tightens her grip on the handlebars, barely able to keep her sweaty, trembling fingers in place. He's saying goodbye, but she can't. She _won't. _"Just - just be careful," she breathes, losing herself in the gentle caress of his thumb on her cheek. It soothes the burn from the wind and sand; she wishes it were enough to soothe the empty, hollow ache developing deep within her chest. "Because – Because I can't –"

It's just like when he'd been "fired" from NCIS over a year ago. Just like then, when their relationship (he doesn't even try to pretend it's just a partnership anymore) had been forced to an end; just like then, when he'd had to turn his back on her, not knowing what the future held. And, just like then, when Kensi had summoned both her voice and the courage to soldier through the confession dancing upon her lips.

And he'd silenced her before she'd had the chance to say anything that might change _them_, because he'd _known _for a fact that it wasn't the end.

This time, though, he knows it more than likely _is_ the end.

And so, this time, instead of words and halfhearted reasons, he silences her with a kiss.

He's lying if he tries to say he hasn't imagined kissing her for the first time (he doesn't really count the kiss they'd shared as Justin and Melissa a year ago…he just doesn't). He can't count the number of times he's thought about leaning over the center armrest in her car and claiming her mouth with his, just after she's claimed victory over the very last sweet in her secret stakeout stash.

He's thought about a kiss they might share after the dinner at Crustacean that never happened; he's thought about kissing her in the midst of a surf lesson, a huge, proud smile on his face after he coaches her into catching her best wave yet; he's thought about teasing her into kissing him to make up for forgetting about his birthday (because let's face it, the one thing he wants more than anything else in the world would _never_ let herself be trapped inside the confines of a cardboard box).

Marty Deeks has imagined this kiss _so_ many different ways.

But never like this.

He'd never imagined that the first _real_ time would also be the last.

And that…God, that makes it that much more poignant. It makes it that much harder to ever separate from her, believing that he'll never see her again.

It crosses his mind for a brief moment – they could do it. They could run away right now. No more assignments, no more suicide missions. No more LAPD, no more NCIS. Just the two of them. He could abandon his part of the mission; she could turn away from hers and together they could just…disappear. He could take her hands and they could escape…

The heat and the rush of his imagination threaten to overtake him for the moment as he drowns in the urgency, the hunger, the utter _desire _in just a single kiss. It's like nothing he's ever felt before and he finds himself briefly wondering if it truly _is_ real.

It's the soft whimper that echoes from the back of her throat as he deepens the kiss that tells him that it _is_. This is real. She's kissing him, her body trembling. And he's kissing her as if it's the very last time he'll ever get the chance. Still cradling her cheeks, he pours everything he is into this kiss; everything he is, everything he feels. And God, he can only pray that it's enough.

It's too soon by his standards when she breaks away, her body trembling with the low hum of sensual electricity. He refuses to let her go so quickly, though – he's not ready to lose her just yet. "Kens…"

Her tongue slips out, quickly tracing over her lips. It's bittersweet, the gentle taste of his kiss that remains. The emotions sparked by it, though, are nearly overwhelming. "You have to come back," she murmurs, the soft, breathy words dancing gently upon her partner's lips. "You have to."

He won't lie and say that he will.

He can't bear to utter the probable truth that he won't.

Instead, he can only press his lips to hers once more in a slow, lingering kiss. And God, how it hurts; it brings the hollow ache in his chest to a deep throb and if he could wrap his arms around her right now and never let go, he'd do exactly that.

He can't, though, and he knows that.

They _both_ know it.

This…is the end.

If not the end of _everything_, then the end of everything as they know it.

Breaking away for the last time, Deeks softly brushes his lips against her forehead, feeling the slow shiver as it makes its way through her body. "I need you to go, Kens," he whispers gently.

She can't handle the chill left behind as he pulls away; when his palms finally fall away from her face, Kensi feels she might slump to the ground below if not for the bike supporting her. "I can't," she breathes, shaking her head.

She's not ready for this.

Kensi's not ready to say _goodbye_ to him, her partner, her _Deeks._

At one time, she'd thought it might have made things easier if she'd had the chance to say her final goodbyes to the people she's lost. Her father, Jack, Renko, Dom…

Instead, it's only making it that much harder.

It's damn near _impossible _not to cry out as he offers her a sad smile and one last touch, a gentle knuckle to her cheek, before he turns and begins to walk away. His shoes crunch gently on the slightly gravelly sand below, the sound growing fainter and fainter until it disappears altogether. Her heart clenches painfully, stealing her breath completely. Somehow, though, she manages to find her voice – it's hoarse and unsteady, but it's still undeniably her voice that calls out to him. "Marty."

One more time, he turns to her; one more time, his gaze locks with hers.

And, one more time, Kensi's words fail her. "I…"

She doesn't need her voice for Deeks to hear her loud and clear, though. He holds her gaze, drinking in her beauty for what he fully expects to be the last time (when he surrenders, he wants _her _to be his last memory). The same sad smile plays upon his lips as he watches her. "I know, Kens," he breathes. "I know."

Numb, Kensi can do little more than nod and close her eyes as he turns away for the last time.

When her eyes come open again, all that remains of her partner is the subtle hint of his scent on the breeze.

And within moments, even that is gone.


End file.
